


Banned

by ceirdwenfc



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Romance, Second War with Voldemort, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-21
Updated: 2008-10-21
Packaged: 2018-10-27 09:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10806813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceirdwenfc/pseuds/ceirdwenfc
Summary: Fred is banned from Quidditch





	Banned

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** **Warnings:** This takes place during OOTP, and is canon for the most part.  There is a slight discrepancy from the books, which technically makes this AU, but not so much.  This doesn't change anything else in the book, other than where they talk about the Quidditch game, so it should be fine.  Not beta'd due to the anonymous nature of this challenge. **Other warnings** : I hate warnings.  I think they give too much of the story away.  I don't even like putting in the pairing.  Honestly, there's friendship, there's angst, there's sex (it's het, and it's not in a bed), there's use of the word fuck (more than once).  There's mention of violence, and there's a tiny bit of blood.  So tiny, it's not worth mentioning.  I think that's it.  **Enjoy**!  Originally written for spewchallenges September contest on livejournal.

Fred sat in the locker room, still wearing his Quidditch robes.  Some of his gear was strewn around his feet on the floor.  He __had__ managed to take off his shoes.  His mouth was still curled in a snarl and he chewed on his lower lip as he seethed.  __What the fuck was Malfoy's problem_?_   He couldn't believe what that little ferret said about his mum.  He also couldn't believe that George was the one to punch him.  And Harry.  Fred tried to get there, to defend his family, his mother, but Angelina, Alicia and Katie had all held him back.  Where the fuck was Ron?  He didn't blame Ron for what Malfoy said, but he should've stuck around to get a couple of digs in himself.  Fred licked his bottom lip, tasting the blood as he bit through.  He took a deep breath, and running his hands over his hair, he brought them back down, resting his face in his palms.

 

He didn't move when he felt the hand on his shoulder.  There were only two people besides George that he would let into his inner turmoil.  No one else saw this side of him.  "Did you hear?" he asked quietly.

 

"Yes."

 

"Banned.  Both of them, then?"

 

"Yes."  There was a long pause, and then the quiet voice continued as the hand pressed down gently on Fred's shoulder.  "And you as well."

 

His head jerked up.  "Sorry?!  What did you say?!"  He turned to face his Quidditch captain.  "What did you say?" he repeated, but he didn't really need to ask again.  The look on her face told him everything.  He had thought for a moment that she was taking the mickey out of him, but the horror on her face said it all.  "What did I do?  I didn't even touch the little ferret."  His voice was laced with venom.

 

"I know, but Umbridge said….  Well, it doesn't matter what she said.  The three of you are out."  

 

"Next game?"  Angelina didn't move, so he continued.  "The entire season, then?"

 

"Lifetime ban, Fred."  He looked down at his bare feet as the dread engulfed him.  Angelina sat beside him, one leg on each side of the bench, one knee touching his, the other touching his thigh.  She put her hand on his leg and he looked at her.  "That's half the team, Fred.  I don't see how we can be halfway competitive, let alone win."

 

"I'm sorry, Ang.  If only I'd –"

 

"No, Fred.  It's not your fault.  What else could you do?"

 

He looked into her dark brown eyes, and as he stared, he saw that they were almost black.  Her braids, which had been tied back for the game, were still braided, but each strand was now loose and hanging around her face and shoulders, down her back.  He thought about last year's Yule Ball when they danced, and her hair swung in every direction as she danced and moved.  He let a small smile rest on his lips.  She was lovely then, but now…she was a year older, and so much more beautiful.  Those dark eyes would be his downfall, he thought as he leaned towards her.  He wanted to kiss her, and he intended to, but as he stared into her darkness, her fingers suddenly twitched, and he shuddered in surprise.  Her hand had reached inside his thigh, and up until that moment, he hadn't realized how close she was.

 

He looked down at her hand, and then back into her face, a lopsided grin appearing.  He expected her to look embarrassed, but she wasn't embarrassed and that caught him off guard.  He swallowed and looked away from the intensity of her gaze, standing.  Her hand fell to the bench with his movements, and his eye kept darting to her, glancing out of the corners as he began to strip off his protective gear.  First, the gloves came off, which he threw into his open locker.  They thudded as they hit the bottom.  He unfastened the elbow pads, tossing them in one at a time, watching them land on the gloves, but glancing at Angelina over and over again.  She was watching him, her gaze seemingly not wandering away.

 

He didn't see her move when he bent over to unlace his shin coverings, but he felt her hand run down his back, putting subtle pressure on him with her fingertips and with each downward motion, he sucked in a breath until she stopped.  It was only for a second, but she followed through with her caresses until both hands were now grasping his arse, her fingers following the curves.  He stood up as she squeezed him gently, sliding one hand between his legs.  His breath caught in his throat as her long fingers zigged and zagged, so gentle, yet determined.  "Ang…."

 

"Fred," she whispered.  She was kneeling on the bench behind him, leaning her body into his back, her left hand reaching around to the front of his robes, undoing the belt holding his uniform trousers up.  She leaned her cheek against the soft flannel letters spelling out F-W-E-A-S-L-E-Y across his shoulders.  She blew a warm breath on the back of his neck.  He felt his hair move and the heat from her mouth on there and then behind his ear.

 

She began to tug on his now open waistband and he immediately regretted having put on his underpants this morning, smiling when she didn't let them get in the way of letting the trousers slide down, and pulling the pants down with them.  He thought for a moment that he should be embarrassed at how prominently his feelings for her showed, that he should step away from her touch, but when she grasped him tightly in her strong hands, only two words crossed his mind.  _Fuck that._

 

He whirled around, pulling her close, fingers scrabbling at her clothes while hers tugged and pulled and unfastened his.  His robes were off and then his jersey.  He'd managed to get her head out of her uniform top, but one arm was in and one out, and when he looked down at himself, his chest was bare and his trousers were still settled around his knees.  They exchanged a humorous look, and Angelina, ever the pragmatist, reached for her wand, waving it slowly over herself, whispering the incantation.  Her clothes were gone from her body and were neatly folded on the bench between them.

 

Fred's breath hitched as Angelina stood before him, completely naked, a beautiful smile present as she waved the wand over him, repeating the same spell.  He was completely naked now as well, his clothes having been neatly folded and settling next to hers.  Their eyes held a moment that seemed to last forever as he took in all that she was: tall, athletic, her dark skin a shadow of his light, and he reached one hand out, but stopped.  They both grinned, and as she tossed her wand away, he scrambled over the bench, grabbing her arse with both hands, pulling her against him and pushing her against the other lockers at the same time.  She gasped.  He assumed from the cold metal on her back and he pressed his body against hers, letting her legs slip in between and around his, feeling her curves, hard and soft as he breathed onto her skin, "Oh fuck Ang.  I want you."  He let his lips brush against her jaw and then her neck, rubbing his thumb across one taut nipple, arching his hips down just a bit.  He thought that he couldn't have been more aroused, but he was wrong, and she smiled as he brushed across her thigh, their lips crashing together in an urgency so different than the kind he felt when he disembarked his broom earlier.  He groaned into her mouth as her hands and mouth explored him, and they fell into a heap on the floor, two stifled grunts as they landed.

 

After one last look into her face, he was inside her.  She keened in pain, a grimace momentarily on her face and he knew that it was her first time as well.  He paused, but her fingernails digging into his shoulders, pulling him down, propelled him deeper inside of her, and his brain was melting from her heat.  Words became vague thoughts and then the sensations were hazy at first, but building to more intense than any of their snogging.  He didn't know who was moaning or who was crying out, but he thought he heard his name along with the mantra playing in his head.  __Oh fuck, Merlin, hot, hot, fuck, very hot, and wet, soft like silk or velvet or who the fuck cares, so tight, sweet Mother of Gwenivere, Ang.__ The pressure in his body was building and as his mouth went to suckle at her breast one more time, he whispered, "sorry, Ang," and his skin became tingly and the goose flesh rose up until he shuddered to a still.  His face buried in her neck, he peppered her with gentle sweet kisses that he didn't know he had in him, murmuring, "I'm so sorry, Angelina.  So sorry.  I couldn't –"

 

"Oh, Fred, don't.  You were...."  She stopped speaking as she turned his head with a gentle hand, and kissed him deeply.  When she pulled her head back, he licked her lips and half-rose off her body, both of them covered in stickiness and sweat.  He was still inside her, throbbing a bit, but he knew that wouldn't last much longer and he wanted to do more for her.  He smiled as he stared at her, bringing his hand between them.  He watched her, leaning down to kiss her gently as he continued watching her.  Her breathing changed and her breasts rose and fell, and her head fell back as her eyes closed and when he finally felt her shudder, he shifted his weight, pushing a little deeper, licking a nipple and then taking the whole breast in his mouth.  He smiled into her flesh as she groaned and let out a little squeal sound he would never have thought could come from Angelina if he hadn't been there himself to hear it.  He bit his lip so the laugh couldn't escape.

 

She was quiet, and as he lay next to her, he forgot about Quidditch, about the banning, about the slurs on his mother and family.  He reveled in her warmth and the moment between them.  He was about to drift off to sleep when she said those three little words that every man dreams of.  "Want a shower?"


End file.
